The Last Laugh
by Pivot
Summary: Armada: We all have to account for our actions sooner or later. Starscream returned to the Decepticons, but what if he left a message?
1. The Last Laugh

_Disclaimer: Hasbro and probably a few other people own the Transformers, I own . . . well, the plot . . . maybe._

_Since this is sort of a sequel to 'Mistranslated' (I don't know how, but the two ARE related), I'll thank the reviewers for that now._

_To Nurannoniel T.I.M.E, my thanks and you're very welcome._

_To GamaFox, again, my thanks, and, uh, my thanks. I'm going to have to find some new words; I can't just keep saying 'thanks' all the time, it doesn't do justice . . ._

_To Naphtali Phoenix, my gratitude and I'm very glad you enjoyed it._

_Oh, right. The fic. It is, in fact, a Starscream fic, although Red Alert gets a major part. This was me wondering, what would Starscream have said, had he been able to answer for his actions ahead of time? I'm mostly attempting to keep both 'bots in character, and to see if I can write Starscream to any decent standard, so please excuse. If any of the accounts of events seem to be inaccurate, then this fic sort-of is a slightly alternate timeline._

* * *

**The Last Laugh**

The hardest part about losing a teammate, Red Alert reflected, was clearing out their quarters. Looking around, at the inner sanctum of a person's private space, their possessions and the surroundings they had built around themselves, he almost felt he was trespassing. Even if a person was gone, it was their place, their home.

Memories always came to mind at times like this. He remembered the first few times, how after a few cycles or so he was always reduced to sitting on their empty recharge bunk and mourning silently. The sense of their presence was still strong in a room that hadn't been entered since they left for the last time: a monument, a snapshot of their state of mind as they stepped outside.

This time, there were no personal possessions to remove, no objects to tidy, nothing to clean or wipe down or change. This time, the room looked as though the person had thought to prepare for their departure.

Except that, whatever the others thought, he hadn't. He couldn't have known. The room had simply been kept in this manner since it had been assigned to the bot. He'd always been ready to leave; whether from this life or just this faction, Red Alert wasn't sure.

Always ready to go; he'd never made this his home. The place was blank, grey, clean. There were no ties to this place; the bot could basically leave at any time.

Another difference: this bot wasn't dead.

Somehow that made it worse.

The grief, the sense of loss, the overpowering emotion that had always prevented him from finishing the task in one go, this time was numbed by the confusion. This wasn't simple - the others were dead. Starscream had chosen to leave.

Why, he wondered. What was it that drove him back? Our accusations? No, he realised, Starscream hadn't been DRIVEN back, even if that was a factor. He wouldn't have tolerated it; he would have held out just to spite them all if he'd cared so much about the finger pointing.

Was it true he was a traitor? Had he been planning to leave with Thrust's help? Of course, he'd SAID he wouldn't stay long, but we all brushed it off; we thought he'd come around, that he was only saying that.

The science officer sighed. The only thing to do was to check the computer for any files. The colourless walls depressed him; they were a sad testimony as to just how much the bot had come to consider this as a home.

We failed him, he thought. We failed to save him, and he's lost to us as surely as any of the others. Turn-up and Excesen, he remembered bitterly, Elemagna and Freeswing, Windswerve and Slopetrack, Dive, Glide, or Sashay. . .

Sighing, Red Alert considered his friends' reactions as he activated the console. Hot Shot was openly angry and bitter, Optimus grieved, though he tried to play it down, the kids stunned, and very upset, Blurr disturbed, and all of them shocked, though in all honesty, Red Alert wasn't sure how much of that was over the loss of the Skyboom Shield.

That wasn't the main problem, though. While he understood their emotions, Red Alert just wasn't entirely happy with their discussion of Starscream. Yes, he had been difficult, stubborn and treacherous, but they had expected that.

More to the point, he disliked it because there was no way Starscream could defend himself without actually being present . . . Don't worry about Starscream; he can take care of himself, reassured part of him. He still didn't believe it. You have to be there to argue your case.

A file caught his interest, and he opened it. Two seconds later, Red Alert discovered that he was 100 wrong.

* * *

If you are viewing this, Autobots, then it is perhaps safe to assume that I have returned to my own faction. I know that I would never allow you to be able to read this while I remained with you, and so I leave this as a final note of explanation: the last laugh, if you please.

Another lesson your kind repeatedly fails to learn; never assume.

You assume that because I fight against your enemy, that because I operate under your terms, because I tolerate your existence and work from your base, that I am one of you. Don't.

I know you, Autobots, and so, you see, I know that you will regard my actions as betrayal. Betrayal? Betrayal of what? You will wonder endlessly why I did what I did, and no doubt you will consider me as a mere traitor, the lowest of the low.

What did you expect! Was I not clear at the start? Did I not state, very plainly, that my only reason for remaining with you was to obtain revenge on Megatron? Our temporary alliance was a convenient arrangement, not a conversion to your values and beliefs!

I never considered myself an Autobot. Surely you must have realised that! So why, then, will you remain so hostile beyond even the attitude normally taken towards an enemy? I never claimed to be one of you; that was something you came up with all on your own.

Betrayal? No. the fact that you are able to read this means only that the usefulness of this understanding has come to an end, and so it has been . . . terminated.

Ah, but wait, Autobots! Now, you think this means that I am apologising. That I am . . . SORRY. . . for my choice.

Forget it. I can't be certain of the events that lead up to my departure from your ranks, but I do know this; I have no regrets. To be freed of your pathetic, sickeningly weak-willed system of beliefs and morals can only be an improvement!

My . . . sincerest apologies . . . if I was not clear enough in the beginning. But again, Autobot fools; it was your own failure to heed my warnings that leave you in your current mess. I admit, it was fascinating, how blindly you allowed me, a self-declared once and future enemy, into your fold.

Did you really think you could change me? Did you assume, in your laughable self-assurance, your usual unfounded arrogance, that by the time I was any danger I would be a convert.

I'm afraid, poor wretches, that I'm a Decepticon through and through, and it is pointless to attempt to win over the truly devout.

Believe all you want, insult me as you dare, plead with and encourage me for a thousand millennia (should I allow you to live that long), but I will not withdraw this truth, will not polish the cold, hard fact so that you can bring yourselves to admire it.

For I am not one of you; I am a Decepticon, your enemy, and I am a warrior. I will not seek forgiveness for the shadows of the inevitable, nor will I repent for your own faults.

* * *

Red Alert stared, aghast, at the screen. Then he checked the file properties. It was dated the day before the accusations and suspicions had actually begun. Starscream could take care of himself, all right.

The message was scathing, the sneering tone and barely veiled taunts were typical of the seeker, but there was anger there, too.

For all that it was not an overly pleasant message, Red Alert couldn't help but chuckle. There were a few holes in the reasoning, and it would be interesting to see how many of his fellows picked up on it. Things might be looking hopeful, after all.

Glancing around, he activated the comlink to summon the others.

* * *

I'd love to know how I did here. Already, I think a part showing the Autobots' response is in order, but I'm not sure . . . Anyway, tips, hints, suggestions, comments etc. are all welcome! 


	2. Last Laugh ?

_Disclaimer: Hasbro and probably a few other people own the Transformers, I own . . . well, the plot . . . maybe._

_The original piece wanted a follow-up, and it got one. The Autobots don't do much apart from Red; their part is mainly built on speculation, since, of course, this particular series of events never took place, or at least was never shown._

_To CodeRed73, thanks, and yep, Red's getting half the credit for this… so I guess it's really a Red Alert/Starscream fic… eh, he doesn't get written enough…_

_In response to Naphtali Phoenix, thanks for reviewing! It's nice to know where I succeeded… and I agree that the Starscream POV is somewhat biased (mostly, I think, because he's supposed to be writing it. Now, in a proper narration, it'd be a different story… heheheh…). At any rate, thanks for the information – and elaboration commences shortly._

_Last, (though surely not least) to Shade, thanks very much for the kind review, and though I think the Screamer's been relegated to joint first in this fic, it still focuses on his defence, so… well, anyway, enjoy!_

* * *

**The Last Laugh…?**

The message finished playing for the second time, and Red Alert shut off the screen, turning to examine the other Autobots' reactions.

The silence in the room was finally broken. "Do... do you think he meant all that?" asked Sideswipe, looking as if he wished he hadn't. "Did he really feel that way?"

"Looks like it, doesn't it?" Hot Shot muttered, still glaring at the screen. "He's right, though. We weren't careful enough." The yellow Autobot whipped round to face the others. "But I won't make the same mistake again!" he declared fiercely, barrelling out of the room. Blurr followed wordlessly.

"I just... don't get it," lamented Carlos, trudging out. Rad answered him with something, and the humans left to continue the discussion elsewhere. Scavenger and Smokescreen departed, too; one thoughtful; the latter's expression unreadable. Sideswipe was led out, accompanied by an unusually grim-looking Jetfire.

Optimus remained behind. He and the Autobot science officer met each other's gaze in a kind of mutual agreement.

"You're going to answer it, aren't you?" he said softly. It wasn't a real question; it was a statement of fact. Red Alert nodded slowly, uncertain as to what the commander's reaction would be.

Prime sighed. "I suppose better you than Hot Shot. Or Sideswipe," he added, then, on an afterthought, "Or the humans." It was amazing how resourceful the kids could be when they wanted to do something sentimental and... sickening, as Starscream would have said.

Red Alert relaxed. It was something he'd have to do anyway, for his own sake as much as anyone else's; he was relieved that, at the very least, he would have proper authorisation. If Optimus hadn't agreed... then he would probably have done it anyway, he admitted privately.

The Autobot leader nodded to him. "Good luck," was all he said by way of leave-taking.

The room was silent around him once more, and he was alone. Trying to gather his thoughts, Red Alert turned back to the computer and began preparing the response.

* * *

Very nice, Starscream. Thanks for letting us know how you feel. I have to say, I wouldn't have expected this.

I thought you were more of a Decepticon than that.

Fine, so we did think of you as one of us. But don't you understand? In treating you as one of us, we forced you to think as one of us; to learn to be one of us.

You even said it; 'I know you, Autobots'. Not 'I know your usual idiocy' or 'I can guess your reaction or even 'I know you, foolish Autobots'. Just that you knew US. Once you know something or someone, really KNOW it...

...you don't think of it in the same way.

Trust me, I know.

I'll admit that we lost sight of your reasons for joining us, but in doing so, in agreeing to play by our rules (even if you didn't believe in them), you had to think like an Autobot; you could no longer fight in the same way as a Decepticon might. And because of this, you were forced, however unwittingly, into taking on our viewpoint.

Once you've seen things from one perspective, it's hard to forget, you know. For better or worse, it has an influence on the way you think and act…

No, I don't think your message means you're sorry… yet. Right now, you're angry. It shows. But eventually, when there's time to think, and you're remembering, and wondering, musing over all the things that could have been, that never were…

…we'll be waiting then.

No regrets, Starscream? None, none at all? You might have been playing a game with us, but how well did you remember that? When did the boundaries between reality and deception begin to disintegrate, Starscream? How well could you distinguish between your lies and your own emotions?

Did we think we could change you? No. We never had to.

You did.

It was yourself who changed, you who learned and adjusted to the new environment. And whether you admit to the changes or not, there is one piece of evidence that speaks otherwise.

Because you did, after all, leave us this message.

If you care so little, why seek to explain yourself? Why did you feel angered enough to leave us this explanation? Why care what we think or how we see your departure?

Why try to tell us that it wasn't betrayal?

You knew you were being affected, Starscream, and you didn't like it. The message was, in part, a way of reassuring yourself, wasn't it?

Oh, I agree that it would be futile for us to attempt to change you, but, (and I want you to understand this) we will _not _stop encouraging you to return. You're right; we can't change you.

You'll do it yourself.

Like it or not, Starscream, you've been changed by your experiences among us, and in denying these subtle changes, you deny what you are - what you've become; in betraying us, you betray yourself. You refuse to tolerate treachery to yourself, and it will be your own identity that convinces you of your mistake.

The termination of an agreement? Maybe for you. For us, it never ended. We're Autobots, Starscream; we don't give up on our friends. And betrayal by someone you consider a friend is probably the most painful of all.

You might not have consciously thought of yourself as an Autobot, but we did. For us, you are a friend still, and with every passing second you betray us yet again.

* * *

_Please review – I'm quite interested to know how I did on this. Comments, ideas, suggestions etc. are, as ever, very welcome. This is probably going to demand continuation; as you can imagine, the Screamer's not going to be too pleased about this message…_


	3. The Final Say

Disclaimer: Hasbro and probably a few other people own the Transformers, I own . . . well, the plot . . . maybe.

GamaFox, thanks, and you're right – you can deal with what you know, after all, but not if there's nothing to deal with . . . thanks for the review!

To ckret2, many thanks- um, look, I updated *holds up fic nervously* Look, ficcie! Now you don't have to lock me in with the Almighty Banana Split, see? He's sooo boring, too, he just goes on and on and on . . . thanks for checking up on The Truths. *grins* Gotta' keep an eye on the buggers – in this case, Laserbeak's lens . . .

My gratitude to Naphtali Phoenix- feedback is, as always, appreciated.

To Shade, I can take a hint, or two, or three . . . you're very much welcome- no, wait, thankYOU for the review!

CodeRed 73, thanks! Red knows what he's doing, all right . . . not that that's half as far as his potential lies. Ah, the possibilities . . . someday I'll get around to planning further fics to inflict on him. I think so, anyway.

Thanks to MarinBlue; and he did, more perhaps than even he knows . . . um, but I'm not of the same opinion as Hasbro apparently has in 'Cramp'. Starscream took it a bit too far, there . . . er, anyhow, thanks again!

Zeheria, thanks; Alexis will have her part, yessss . . . *grins* which reminds me, I need to ask how we should work that other fic . . . for now, thankyou!

To Nurannoniel T.I.M.E., my thanks. I've tried to keep the 'bots IC, more so because I find them trickier than the 'cons . . . glad to know you like the fic!

KatDrama, thanks: I try . . . regarding Starscream's softer side, he claims strongly that he doesn't have one, bar perhaps the inside of his cockpit. He maintained this even after it was pointed out that the side in question was emotional. I give up. *Sigh* Still, I'll weasel it out of him, sooner or later . . . did I say thankyou?

To Haley Macrae, new perspectives are the idea – I'm gratified to know I've succeeded in that respect. Oh, and keep up on your own work – I'm somewhat behind with my reading, but from what I've seen, you're doing well.

Ah, right- on with the fic! And stuff!

The Final Say

By Pivot.

Fresh scorch marks showed on the walls as the Air Commander passed. He made no note of them; minor damage was a common sight around the lunar base. On the other hand, this last attack had been unusually fierce.

Starscream thought he knew why.

Somehow, it was beginning to feel as though his return had been something of an 'own goal', or whatever that human boy . . . Carlos . . . had called it. Trying to explain human sports to the Seeker hadn't exactly been a waste of time, but it _did_ seem a foolish training method in comparison to combat simulation. Starscream's optics narrowed slightly; something inside him was disgusted at the remembered references, at having been able to recall the term at all, much less the name . . . 

In an effort to ignore the memories, he turned his attention instead to his fellow Decepticons. Thrust he mistrusted almost as deeply as he did Sideways, and Demolisher was anything but on good terms with him. Cyclonus just didn't care.

Oh, Megatron was well aware of the fact that the Seeker's return was, essentially, a point to the Decepticon side. He hadn't even had to mention it in battle; every bot was well aware of the unspoken score that seemed, at times, to hang above their heads. Right now, the Autobots felt it keenly, and Megatron seemed to find this highly amusing.

And he was probably right. The whole string of events was coated in irony and almost stank of apparent contradictions that, in fact, made perfect sense. For a given value of sense. The whole thing was a laugh, Starscream guessed; he just wished he could see the funny side of it.

Right now, he could use one.

He'd been as good as his word, (if no more) hadn't he? The arrangement _had_ only been temporary. The Autobots, then, would have to learn that Decepticon warriors meant what they said.

_Even, _said part of him, _if what is actually said isn't what they think it means._

They were his enemies. He'd made a short-term agreement with them; that they had allowed it to harm them was their folly and a victory for him. Yet, for some reason, Starscream didn't feel as though he'd won.

Stalking into his quarters and irritably hitting the door (it was jammed again, the jet noted with a growl), he sat down by the console, facing into the room, and tried to organise his thoughts. The door came unstuck as he stepped away from it and sat, rattling closed despite the sound of protesting metal. Starscream ignored it in favour of trying to analyse what had been so distasteful about the last skirmish.

The Autobots had been . . . angry, some of them, and he recalled one expression of hatred in particular . . . at this the red flier grinned to himself, sitting back; he was familiar with hatred, comfortable in dealing with it.

What else . . . oh, yes, betrayal. This, too, was not new; some things never changed, and Autobot wisdom was one of them. He paid this no heed, as a rule; their emotions tended to be misplaced, and in this instance, they had a tendency to forget that there was no betrayal without trust. Well, they had trusted him, sometimes, but only slightly, and he'd never done anything to encourage it.

Ah . . . disappointment. Starscream snorted; _he_ hadn't been the cause of that. Again, it was their own folly that raised impossible hopes; he could hardly be expected to take responsibility for _that_, could he?

Shaking his head, the Seeker tried again to pinpoint this aggravation, this elusive factor that had robbed him of his victory and left him devoid of triumph. He found only the definite impression that he was missing something.

Lost in thought, he turned to face the console, and was at once dragged from his musings. How had that gotten there? That wasn't any file of his! Furthermore, Starscream noticed in shock, it was stored directly onto the computer, rather than having been sent by another unit.

He opened it, annoyed and keen to find which of the others had dared to invade his computer. As soon as the message began playing, he became very still. The silence blended with the recording until they almost counted as one.

Finally, the voice fell silent, too.

For a few cycles, the Decepticon jet sat, staring at the console, his expression unreadable. If anyone had looked for it, though, they might have seen his quaking – with an emotion far removed from fear. Or so they might have thought.

Then, bending over the keys, Starscream called up a new screen and began, as it were, to compose.

- -        --            -        ------

Poor, foolish Red Alert. I almost hate to disappoint you, but sadly for your blindly faithful alliance, I must inform you that you are once again playing out your noble Autobot role, and looking for evidence where there is none.

I would have thought you, of all bots, would understand that problem. Perhaps logical thinking is not such a great component of scientific training, as its teachers would have us believe, then.               

Water takes the shape of its container, but pour it out, and doesn't it lose its shape for whatever form it pools into? Just because I had to play by your rules at one point doesn't alter the fact that I am free of them now.

And I intend to make the most of it. You were right on one count, at least. I do indeed know you better for the time we worked together. Knowledge is power, especially in war.

What, did you expect me to respect your privacy? To refuse to use such knowledge against you, through honour or some other such whimsical concept? Yet again, Autobot, you let hope cloud reason. I may as well remind you of this: it will destroy you.

Yes, now I understand you. So? Understanding is NOT the same as agreement. Just because I can comprehend your 'logic' doesn't mean I subscribe to your philosophy.

Although it DOES have an influence on MY behaviour. After all, appreciation of your thinking allows me to predict your actions, and now… now you have and enemy who empathises with you, but doesn't _sympathise. _A foe that understands you perfectly… and doesn't give a slag.

Can you think of anything more dangerous, Autobot?

You can wait all you want, but I care nothing for your folly. Returning to the side where I belonged is a choice beyond regret – there was no other possible outcome, in the end, and I-

It was a choice, it- it had to be made . . . What you fail to grasp is that, whether I had stayed or not, regret would have plagued me. Decisions must be taken every day of our lives: that _is _life, and wondering what might have been is something that we must deal with. _Regret _is hardly a deciding factor.

I ADAPT. Learning isn't necessarily the same as changing. Just because I found ways to cope among you doesn't mean I liked it, or that it will have any influence on me now that I am free of such ties.

It seems you misunderstand my intention. Red Alert, surely a science officer can grasp such a simple concept as this: for once, in sending you that message, I _was _being perfectly honest and straightforward.

Reassuring myself, hah . . . Stop reading too far into it!

And what makes you think I'd change myself? Why should I wish to change? I am who I am, Starscream, Decepticon warrior, and no pathetic, quibbling Autobot: that is all that is important. My identity happens to be that of your adversary. Deal with it.

. .  . The only betrayal I could commit would be to remain with you, to deny whom I am merely to strike at Megatron. My judgement was impaired when I joined forces with you; yes, I'll admit that my emotions were in control. And there's the difference between us: I learned my lesson.

You, on the other hand, persist in your own course of denial, refusing (rather childishly, I believe the term is) to accept the facts. While you pander to your fantasies, then, I will move on. I, after all, have a life to lead.

Think of me as you will, then. Continue to pine for the comrade you deluded yourself into believing was there. But when you see who is about to deliver the killing blow, well .  . .

  . . . Don't say I didn't warn you. Please.

A whining target puts me off.

--    ----------------- -- ---         -              ---------------

Please review and comment! Starscream, as ever, likes to think he has the last word on the matter . . . but we, of course know better . . . ^_^


	4. The Last Word

_Disclaimer: I owns nothin'! I did it all for the sake of my health! Don't hurt the email!_

_Thanks, everyone who reviewed. I know it's taken me a loooong time to get this done. Those still reading, your patience is commendable. Now, if you'll bear with me a moment longer, I won't delay you any longer than is absolutely necessary._

_Ckret, I think that Megatron was going to steal it, but had some problems with transport – although, looking at Energon, he seems to have them, sort of…And thanks. I'm suitably honoured (i.e. very). Just be sure and update yourself, now, won't you? (I ran out of threats earlier. Iceberg's getting some more for me, though.)_

_Indigo-ink: As far as I can tell, Starscream's only like that when it'll win him an argument or something. In other words, to be contrary. (sigh) But yes, there's more: there's this. So…(cues the violin music to turn much faster and more upbeat) …Enjoy!_

* * *

**The Last Word**

Red Alert stared. It was hard not to. After all, when the enemy is hovering in space, poised to erase any sign of your existence from the bit of reality you happen to be occupying…

… The next logical step generally doesn't involve sending you annoying messages. On Red Alert's list of Top Ten Times To Read Your Mail, this might have been somewhere near seven hundred.

Things made more sense to him after he'd checked the times; apparently the message had been sent nearly a day ago. Why it had taken so long to reach him, he didn't know: the time lag was atrocious – and no doubt had something to do with the oversized super weapon that was currently keeping his team-mates busy.

He wasn't sure how he was supposed to react. On the other hand, if Starscream was dealing with private correspondence, it probably meant that he wasn't blasting chunks off the planet, or helping to blast chunks off the planet, or whatever it was that the Seeker was doing up there.

Even if Starscream really was as much of a Decepticon as he thought himself to be (and he hadn't sounded _quite_ sosure of himself)… well, Red Alert would just have to hope Decepticons couldn't multitask.

He didn't have enough time for repeating himself as Starscream had, and that wouldn't help his case anyway. All he could do at this point was to keep his point as clear and simple as his chaotic thoughts would permit.

It was most likely a good thing for the science officer that everyone else was too interested in the ship carefully positioning itself (the better to kill them), to notice what he was doing. (Except for one of the humans, who looked over and then continued to watch curiously, but Red Alert didn't notice her.)

He did wonder if he should tell any of the others, but decided against it. If they hadn't needed to know yet, they probably never would, he reasoned.

And sent the message.

* * *

I understand that it's compulsory for you to keep playing your own stubborn Decepticon role, but it's no use just refusing to believe what doesn't suit you. Maybe even you don't see everything about yourself. I don't know whether you're lying or you honestly believe everything you're saying; either way, the truth is the truth – whether you want to accept it or not.

You may be free of the rules, but have they ever mattered to you before? The very fact that you did play by our rules… that's something, at least. You're right in one sense: people can change their minds and their shape – but they remember. You're a Decepticon for now, but you can remember a time when you weren't, in name at least, if not action. You still know what it is to be one of us.

Whether you use the knowledge against us is not a concern: we use our knowledge of the people around us against them every day, one way or another. But knowing is a two-way thing. Did it ever occur to you that that knowledge could in turn be used against you? No, I don't mean by us, but what you know affects you more than you realise; the more you understand, the more it alters your perspective. You might not agree with our viewpoint, but once you are aware of it, once you've tried another way of doing things, then it becomes an option. And if there's another option, that makes every decision twice as complicated…

If you empathise it will change you; if you can understand something, your behaviour towards it is affected. Even if you fail to notice it. And you might be surprised by how much regret influences your thinking. After all, it is an emotion, and any emotion affects your state of mind, which in turn affects your behaviour… But there's no point in my trying to win this argument when we already have. I can't make you believe me, but that's all right; you know yourself that what I'm saying is true.

Whatever you think you feel, you'll have to admit the truth to yourself in the end. And no, Starscream, we're not about to leave you behind. It's not for us to give up on a friend. I just hope for your sake that you figure it out before it's too late.

But until then, we can wait.

* * *

A reply? Now?

Starscream stared at the message (silent, this one) and wondered where these Primus-damned Autobots got their timing from.

As if it mattered. He hadn't the time or the wish to argue with the medic here or now, despite the ridiculous ideas that fool had. But they weren't right. Of course not. The Autobot had no idea what he was talking about.

He _couldn't_ be right.

"-scream!"

The sound brought Starscream back to the present. _I'll have to admit the truth in the end, will I? In that case… well, we'll see which of us is the more stubborn._

He turned his attention back to the task at hand. Red Alert's words might be proven true one day, but Starscream couldn't see it happening. Until then, he was a Decepticon, and there was work to be done, and Megatron was calling him.

* * *

_Well, it's done. Short, but done. And about time, too. So, what did we learn from this?_

_Starscream: That Red Alert's even slower than you are at replying to messages?_

_Red Alert: That Starscream reads his e-mail when he's supposed to be working?_

_Meh… I'm going to go with 'Never argue with Red Alert.'_

_Red Alert: A very valuable lesson. I think you should try it on Hot Shot. And Blurr. In fact, just teach everyone that before I have to._

_Starscream: I object! Autobot propaganda-_

_Please, guys… no more._


End file.
